the white moll-第49章
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for an instant as they rounded it； too； in following her。
A minute； two； another passed。 And then Rhoda Gray； tight…lipped；
her face drawn hard； as her own headlights suddenly edged away from
the road and opened what looked like a deep ravine on her left；
while the road curved to the right； flung a frenzied glance back
of her。 It was her chance … her one chance。 Danglar was perhaps
a little more than a hundred yards in the rear。 Yes … now！ His
headlights were streaming out on her left as he； too； touched the
curve。 The right…hand side of her car； the right…hand side of the
road were in blackness。 She checked violently； almost to a stop；
then instantly opened the throttle wide once more； wrenching the
wheel over to head the machine for the ravine； and before the car
picked up its momentum again； she dropped from the right…hand side；
darted to the far edge of the road； and flung herself flat down
upon the ground。
The great； black body of her car seemed to sail out into nothingness
like some weird aerial monster； the headlights streaming uncannily
through space … then blackness … and a terrific crash。
And now the other car had come to a stop almost opposite where she
lay。 Danglar and the two chauffeurs； shouting at each other in
wild excitement； leaped out and rushed to the edge of the embankment。
And then suddenly the sky grew red as a great tongue…flame shot up
from below。 It outlined the forms of the three men as they stood
there； until； abruptly； as though with one accord； they rushed
pell…mell down the embankment toward the burning wreckage。 And as
they disappeared from sight Rhoda Gray jumped to her feet； sprang
for Danglar's car； flung herself into the driver's seat； and the car
shot forward again along the road。
A shout； a wild chorus of yells； the reports of a fusillade of
shots reached her； she caught a glimpse of forms running insanely
after her along the edge of the embankment … then silence save for
the roar of the speeding car。
She drove on and on。 Somewhere； nearing a town； she saw a train
in the distance coming in her direction。 She reached the station
first； and left the car standing there； and； with the torn veil
over her face again； took the train。
She was weak； undone； exhausted。 Even her mind refused its
functions further。 It was only in a subconscious way she realized
that； where she had thought never to go to the garret again； the
garret and the role of Gypsy Nan were； more than ever now； her sole
refuge。 The plot against Cloran had failed； but they could not
blame that on 〃Bertha's〃 non…appearance； and since it had failed
she would not now be expected to assume the dead woman's personality。
True； she had not； as had been arranged； reached the Silver Sphinx
at eleven； but there were a hundred excuses she could give to
account for her being late in keeping the appointment so that she
had arrived just in time； say； to see Danglar dash wildly in pursuit
of a woman who had jumped into the car that she was supposed to take！
The garret！ The garret again … and Gypsy Nan！ Her surroundings
seemed to become a blank to her； her actions to be prompted by some
purely mechanical sense。 She was conscious only that finally； after
an interminable time； she was in New York again； and after that；
long； long after that； dressed as Gypsy Nan； she was stumbling up
the dark； ladder…like steps to the attic。
How her footsteps dragged！ She opened the door； staggered inside；
locked the door again； and staggered toward the cot； and dropped
upon it； and the gray dawn came in with niggardly light through
the grimy little window panes； as though timorously inquisitive
of this shawled and dissolute figure prone and motionless； this
figure who in other dawns had found neither sleep nor rest … this
figure who lay there now as one dead。
XVIII。 THE OLD SHED
Rhoda Gray opened her eyes； and； from the cot upon which she lay；
stared with drowsy curiosity around the garret … and in another
instant was sitting bolt upright； alert and tense； as the full flood
of memory swept upon her。
There was still a meager light creeping in through the small； grimy
window panes； but it was the light of waning day。 She must have
slept； then； all through the morning and the afternoon； slept the
dead； heavy sleep of exhaustion from the moment she had flung
herself down here a few hours before daybreak。
She rose impulsively to her feet。 It was strange that she had not
been disturbed； that no one had come to the garret！ The recollection
of the events of the night before were crowding themselves upon her
now。 In view of last night； in view of her failure to keep that
appointment in the role of Danglar's wife； it was very strange
indeed that she had been left undisturbed！
Subconsciously she was aware that she was hungry； that it was long
since she had eaten； and； almost mechanically； she prepared herself
something now from the store the garret possessed； but； even as she
ate； her mind was far from thoughts of food。 From the first night
she had come here and self…preservation had thrust this miserable
role of Gypsy Nan upon her； from that first night and from the
following night when； to save the Sparrow； she had been whirled
into the vortex of the gang's criminal activities； her mind raced
on through the sequence of events that seemed to have spanned some
vast； immeasurable space of time until they had brought her to
… last night。
Last night！ She had thought it was the end last night； but instead
… The dark eyes grew suddenly hard and intent。 Yes； she had
counted upon last night； when； with the necessary proof in her
possession with which to confront Danglar with the crime of murder；
she could wring from the man all that now remained necessary to
substantiate her own story and clear herself in the eyes of the law
of that robbery at Skarbolov's antique store of which she was held
guilty … and instead she had barely escaped with her life。 That
was the story of last night。
Her eyes grew harder。 Well； the way was still open； wasn't it？
Last night had changed nothing in that respect。 To…night； as the
White Moll； she had only to find and corner Danglar as she had
planned to do last night。 She had still only to get the man alone
somewhere。
Rhoda Gray's hands clenched tightly。 That was all that was necessary
… just the substantiation of her own story that the plot to rob
Skarbolov lay at the door of Danglar and his gang； or； rather； perhaps；
that the plot was in existence before she had ever heard of Skarbolov。
It would prove her own statement of what the dying woman had said。
It would exonerate her from guilt； it would prove that； rather than
having any intention of committing crime； she had taken the only means
within her power of preventing one。 The real Gypsy Nan； Danglar's
wife； who had died that night； bad； even in eleventh…hour penitence；
refused to implicate her criminal associates。 There was a crime
projected which； unless she； Rhoda Gray； would agree to forestall
it in person and would give her oath not to warn the police about
it and so put the actual criminals in jeopardy； would go on to its
fulfillment！
She remembered that night in the hospital。 The scene came vividly
before her now。 The woman's pleading； the woman's grim loyalty
even in death to her pals。 She； Rhoda Gray； had given her oath。
It became necessary only to substantiate those facts。 Danglar
could be made to do it。 She had now in her possession the evidence
that would convict him of complicity in the murder of Deemer； and
for which murder the original Gypsy Nan had gone into hiding； she
even had in her possession the missing jewels that had prompted that
murder； she had； too； the evidence now to bring the entire gang to
justice for their myriad depredations； she knew where their secret
hoard of ill…gotten gains was hidden … here in this attic； behind
that ingeniously contrived trap…door in the ceiling。 She knew all
this； and this information placed before the police； providing
only it was backed by the proof that the scheme to rob Skarbolov
was to be carried out by the gang； as she； Rhoda Gray； would say
